24
I didn’t have time to think about what had happened between Roy and me in the following weeks. I walked around in a daze. The upcoming sentencing was hovering over my head like a butcher’s knife. I wanted it to be over already. I was hoping that the court’s final decision would put an end to all the threats and scare tactics.
Time has two sides—a devilish side and an angelic side. The devil makes it seem as if time is standing still; the angel gives you the feeling that it’s running by too fast. The devil had the upper hand this time. It seemed like time wasn’t moving at all. One day followed the next, and every minute felt like an eternity. I preferred not to appear in court. I had already demonstrated my daring and didn’t see any need to prove anything to anyone. Roy went to the court session, and I went to the office. It was senseless to wait at home. I had to keep myself busy. He came to the office at noon.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go get a bite to eat.”
I refused. “No! First I want to hear what happened.”
Roy insisted. “I will tell you everything outside while you eat something.”
Before the beginning of the trial, and even before that, I had lost my appetite. Entire days went by where I didn’t put a thing in my stomach. Roy tried to convince me to eat, but my appetite was nowhere to be found. The tension replaced my desire for food and the threats made me want to disappear. I had lost more than thirteen pounds. My clothes hung on me like rags on a scarecrow. I hadn’t been wearing any makeup and completely neglected my outward appearance. I only had enough energy for minimal function, and there was nothing left to take care of my other basic needs.
“How long did he get?” I asked as soon as we sat down in the little coffee shop that served sandwiches and soft drinks.
“Start eating and I’ll tell you,” answered Roy.
Roy ordered a guacamole sandwich and French fries for me. He ordered an egg sandwich and salad for himself. He waited until I took a bite of the sandwich and then he told me that George was sentenced to six months in a Chicago jail. In addition, he was ordered to compensate me and given a warning not to come near me or my house for the next two years.
“I don’t want his money,” I blurted out.
“I figured that’s what you’d say.”
“Let him keep his money. I don’t want to touch it.”
“I have an idea what we can do with the money,” he said, hiding a smile.
I lifted my head up and looked at him with indifference. “I don’t want that money!” I repeated.
“Don’t take the money. You can pass it on to someone else,” he said.
“To whom?” My curiosity was piqued.
“Maybe to some charity that provides assistance to Jews or connected somehow to Judaism.”
I looked at him incredulously. What a brilliant idea.
“That would be sweet revenge on George. What do you think?”
I gave him an enormous smile.
“Sometimes I don’t understand where you get such brilliant ideas. I mean, you were such a terrible student,” I teased him. Then I became serious. “So, what do you suggest?”
“I suggest we start looking for a charity to donate George’s generous contribution.”
We agreed to meet the next afternoon at the library. We were hoping to find a list of all the aid organizations involving Jews and choose one that seemed suitable.
Ira the librarian welcomed us with a tired smile. At first, she didn’t recognize us, but after several seconds her eyes lit up and she said, “You were here a while ago. Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yes,” we said, nodding.
“I’m glad,” she said. “What can I do for you today?”
We explained what we were looking for. She thought for a moment and suggested we go over to the computer on the far side of the room; she gave us a box of microfiche to go over.
“Microfiche?” I looked at Roy in amazement after Ira left and went back to her desk at the front of the library. “Remind me what year it is?”
Roy smiled. “You forget, Eva, that everything that happens in large cities comes to us in delay. If you want, we can go to the Chicago library. I am sure that the twentieth century has reached them.”
Time ticked by. The microfiche contained a long list of Jewish organizations throughout the United States. We tried to find one just a few hours from our town so we decided to check by area. We finally found a few organizations. Three in Chicago and another two east of our town.
“We need the Internet,” I said.
“Chicago. We’re going to Chicago tomorrow.”
“Chicago, tomorrow,” I agreed.
We both left early from work and were on the road to Chicago by noon. A feeling of optimism washed over me, but I also knew deep inside that my troubles weren’t over with the verdict; sweet revenge, however, sweetened the fear of the unknown. I was determined to make sure George knew exactly where his tainted money was being donated. I would make sure that the money would serve a good purpose despite its source.
This thought accompanied me throughout the drive. Roy looked over at me every so often and smiled at the feeling of optimism in the air. We enjoyed pleasant conversation, but the incident from more than a week ago still stood between us. We were careful not to come near it.
We arrived in Chicago as a gray sky heralded the evening of a cold winter day. Strong winds were blowing and the buildings seemed to be swaying. People bundled up in coats, like headless creatures, were hurrying to their homes. The map directed us to the Chicago Public Library. We had chosen it because we heard it was one of the most beautiful libraries in Chicago. However, as someone coming from a small town that still used microfiche and cellphones were only possessed by precious few, we were afraid of getting lost.
The library was revealed to us in all its glory. The building was built from red brick with huge glass windows inviting the sunlight to enter and illuminate the massive reading room. The building’s roof was adorned with statues that looked like enormous gods protecting the statue of an owl, the symbol of wisdom.
The inner structure was no less impressive. The high ceiling gave the feeling of infinity. Upstairs, on the ninth floor of the building was a winter garden, a wonderful place covered by a glass roof divided into squares. The residual light from outside and the abundant vegetation created a vast, special space that lent a feeling of intimacy opposite the meticulous and lavish architecture. We had no idea we were going to a place that was much more than just storing books. Touring the building was so appealing to us that we forgot why we had come. It was already six o’clock in the evening when we pulled ourselves together and approached the information desk on the third floor. The pleasant librarian announced that the library was closing in one hour and asked us to hurry. She sent us to a room with several computers and explained how to conduct a quick search.
The hour passed quickly and we still hadn’t found what we were looking for. The lights began to flash, signaling to the last visitors that the time had come to leave. Roy and I looked at each other with disappointment that we weren’t able to fulfill the goal we had come for.
“What should we do?” I asked.
Roy thought for a minute, and then he said, “There are two options. We could go home and return another time, or stay here overnight and come back tomorrow morning.”
“I think we should stay,” I answered, after giving it some thought. “It’s already too late to drive all the way back in complete darkness, and you must be really tired. And besides, it’s important for me to finish this business as quickly as possible. I don’t want to take the money until I know what I’m going to do with it.”
“OK.” Roy nodded his head. “Now we need to find a hotel for the night.”
After about an hour of searching, we found a small hotel on one of the side streets in the city with a price that suited our wallets. It was a modest, clean place, and a light breakfast was even included in the pri
ce. We entered the room and were surprised to discover that there was one double bed.
“Would you like me to go back to reception and ask about two twin beds?” he asked after he saw my hesitation.
“No, that’s not necessary.” I tried to hide my embarrassment. That moment in his bedroom surfaced in my mind. Roy tried to keep the atmosphere noncommittal. He proposed that I take a shower and try to fall asleep first so that his snoring wouldn’t bother me. He got into bed only after he was sure I was asleep.
I got up before him in the morning. He was asleep on his back, his mouth closed and his sleep calm and quiet. When he woke up, I was already dressed and ready to go. We went down to breakfast on the first floor together and waited for nine o’clock, when the library would reopen its doors.
We were among the first to arrive at the library. The enormous hall was all ours. The woman by the counter recognized us and nodded at us. We sat down in front of the computer we had abandoned the day before and concentrated entirely on the task for which we had come. Here we also encountered a very long list of Jewish organizations, but with the help of the librarian, we were able to trim down the list to just a few that were located a reasonable distance from our hometown.
There were organizations whose purpose was to strengthen the bond between the Jews living in the diaspora and the State of Israel. Others dealt with sending youths to Israel and bringing Israeli youths to meet local Jewish teenagers. One organization provided organized tours to Israel. One association’s main goal drew my attention; they conducted conferences and summits in order to raise money to further Jewish education among Jewish youths in the United States. I wrote down the name of that organization and continued to search. Roy scrolled the pages slowly and allowed me to read what was written with my own eyes.
Suddenly, something caught my eye. “Go back,” I requested. On the screen, there was a women’s organization whose goal is to empower women and assist them through health education, contact with the community, and providing an emergency response service. As I read further, I realized that this was exactly what I was looking for: an association supporting women who have suffered from violence and sexual abuse, allowing them to escape the cycle of violence and realize their potential in order to build an independent and healthy life.
“This is it,” I said with confidence. “This is what I want.”
Roy nodded in agreement. “Jews and women,” he said. “Exactly what I was thinking to myself.” He printed the page with the details of the organization. We left the library extremely pleased.
“Hold on to this paper. Don’t lose it,” I said to Roy.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I put it in my pocket next to my gun.” He winked at me, and I gave him an affectionate shove.
“Since we’re already here, why don’t we take the opportunity to see a bit of the city?”
“I think that’s a great idea.” My mood had improved. I felt that I was moving toward closing another one of the unsuccessful chapters of my life.
“What do you suggest?”
“Since these winds are unbearable, I suggest we go up to the Sears Tower and look out over the city from up high.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to walk around outside and be gone with the wind.”
Roy smiled at my buoyant mood. He took my hand in his and pulled me toward the street. We decided to take a taxi and leave the car in the parking lot. The taxi dropped us off at the entrance to Sears Tower, one of the tallest buildings in the world, which towered over all the other buildings in the city. Its black façade separated it from the other structures in the area. When we entered the building, the clerk in the lobby suggested we take one of the pamphlets lying in a pile in front of him; we learned that apparently the building had 130 elevators.
We stood in front of one of the elevator doors that led to the top floor. A number of people stood next to us. Some looked like tourists, like us, and others looked like businessmen. The elevator to our left arrived. It stopped on the number 1 and then came down to the ground floor. The elevator doors opened up and people began to stream out of it. Roy and I stepped aside in order to let them through.
“Eva?” I heard a familiar voice.
I turned my head around and to my great amazement caught Mickey’s surprised expression.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
My surprise was so overwhelming that I couldn’t find the words to answer him. I didn’t know whether to tell him I was just sightseeing or explain that we had come to find something at the public library.
“Hello, Michael.” Roy held out his hand and Mickey turned around toward Roy.
“Roy, you’re here too?” He returned Roy’s handshake, and his eyes met mine. “What are you doing in Chicago?” he asked.
“We came to the public library; we needed to search for something—”
“We decided to do a little sightseeing,” Roy said.
“I see.”
I don’t understand a thing, I told myself. Someone, somewhere in the universe, is playing a joke on me; I’m like a pawn on a chessboard with an invisible hand determining its path on the board.
“How are you, Eva?” Mickey turned his face toward me and his back to Roy.
“Fine… I’m fine,” I stuttered.
“I’m sorry I haven’t called. I’ve had a rough few days, but I meant to call, of course.”
“It’s OK, Mickey. I know you’ve been busy,” I said diplomatically.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. I didn’t react.
“Is it possible for you to stay in Chicago tomorrow as well?” He was still completely ignoring Roy’s presence.
“I don’t think so,” I answered.
“We’re going home today!” Roy stood beside me. “We only came to see the city from above, and then we’re going home.”
Mickey heard what Roy said, but he continued to look at me. “I’d like us to get together,” he said, ignoring my lack of reaction to what he said before. “I’ll call you this week and we’ll talk. OK?”
“Fine,” I said and looked up at the number showing on the elevator to our left. The doors opened. Roy took my hand and dragged me inside. Mickey and I continued to look at each other until the elevator doors came between us again.
Our bright mood was replaced by the need for the trip to end. The events that had taken place in my life since my last visit with Mickey had created a barrier that prevented me from any thought about our relationship. All of the sudden that barrier collapsed, and I was flooded with fractured images of a relationship that ended before its time.
We reached the top floor and the view was impressive. Chicago was spread out before us like a colorful quilt. Tall towers and short ones, straight roads and curved, quiet traffic that moved by its own rules. A whole life was going on down there in silence. I stood in front of one of the windows and looked out. All of a sudden I felt Roy’s arm on mine. He said, “You’ve been standing in the same place for fifteen minutes. Don’t you want to see the city from other directions?”
“Yes,” I said, but I didn’t make a move.
“Come on.”
“No, Roy. I want to go.” I saw the hurt look on his face, but I didn’t change my mind. My mood had darkened, and all I wanted was to be in the car on our way home.
***
Two weeks went by. Mickey called as promised.
“I’d like to come see you this weekend,” he said.
At ten after six that night, I heard a knock on the door. I opened it and he came close and hugged me tight. His mouth sought out mine, but I said, “Not now.” I broke free of his embrace. He was carrying a small backpack, and it was obvious he intended to stay at least until tomorrow. He looked really tired to me. Tiny wrinkles created lines on his forehead and cheeks. His hair had turned gray at the temples and was in disarray.
I brought him a cup of coffee and told him that dinner would be ready in one hour. We sat down in the living room. He looked
around at the stained furniture and maybe wondered about the smell, but he didn’t say anything.
“How are you, Eva?” he asked.
“OK,” I answered quietly.
“You must be angry with me.”
I thought for a minute before answering. “I don’t think I’m angry. I just don’t understand what’s happening to you—what’s happening to us.”
Mickey looked down and played with his coffee cup. “What’s happening to me has to do with my father,” he said finally. “It’s also affecting us.”
I was silent, so he continued. “I didn’t call you because I didn’t want my mood to cloud our relationship.”
“Why, did something happen?” I asked anxiously.
“I had a conversation with my father, a conversation we have never had before. For the first time, he talked to me about what happened to him there. I’m sure he didn’t tell me everything, but he told me things he’s never told me before.”
His face suddenly hardened. The creases I saw earlier grew deeper and he sat hunched on the sofa. Blood was pumping through the vein on his neck and his face had darkened.
“Would you like a glass of water?” I asked with concern.
He ignored my question and began to speak. “Two weeks ago, my father wasn’t feeling well. He had a cold, a cough—nothing out of the ordinary. My mother made him a cup of tea and made sure he ate something. But the cold got worse. His cough became so bad that he could hardly talk. I sat next to his bed and made sure he took his medicine and drank as much as possible. His fever went up and he began to hallucinate. He said things, some that made sense and some that didn’t. One day he began to cry very loudly—he was dreaming and his crying had something to do with the dream. He took my hand unexpectedly and began to mumble: ‘What have I done… What have I done?’ I tried to wake him up. I even shook him, but he continued to cry. Then he began to talk. At first it seemed he was dreaming out loud again. Little by little what he was saying connected directly to the story he never told me.”
Life in a Box Page 20
